Home Again
by Eridala
Summary: Secretly married only days ago, Anakin and Padmé now have to share the news with her family. It's not so easy to explain a secret Jedi wedding to loved ones... Completed!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: _Star Wars_ is the property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I mean no infringement and make no profit.

A/N: This is a (more light-hearted) follow-up to my story "Surrender," but you don't have to have read that one to understand this. It's about breaking the news of the wedding to the Naberries. Have I mentioned that my lovely beta is prompt? Thanks, Alicia!

_**Home Again**_

_"Home again, home again, to go to rest  
__By hearth and heart, house and nest."  
__-_Attack of the Clones_ novel_

_**Chapter One: Secrets**_

"Are you nervous?" Padmé Naberrie Skywalker, Senator Amidala of Naboo, raised an eyebrow at her new husband, who was fidgeting with his Jedi robes as they walked side by side down the streets of Theed.

"Not at all," Anakin replied, unable to mask the tremor in his voice. Padmé giggled. "Well," he snapped back, "aren't you? They're _your_ family."

"I'm terrified," she admitted. This did not make the Jedi at her side appear any more comfortable. "They won't hate you," she was quick to reassure him. "I promise. They already _like_ you. You're my Jedi protector."

"But that's not _all_ I am this time."

"They're just concerned. They love me. They don't like to think of me doing things which might be dangerous. And that," she concluded, "is why we have the Mom version of events."

"Which leaves out most of the things which would make them concerned."

"Exactly. Such as…"

Anakin groaned. "Again?" But Padmé gave him a pleading look, and he sighed in resignation. "Such as the incident in the droid factory."

"And?"

"The battle."

"More specifically?"

"That you were in it."

"And particularly?"

"The nexu." He sighed again. "And then there's the whole wedding thing."

"Only until I find the right time to tell them. I promise." Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she slipped her hand into his. They had been married only three days ago at Padmé's family's lake retreat in the southern region of Naboo. There they had spent two wonderful, blissful days forgetting all about the galaxy outside. On the morning of the third day, however, Padmé had been awakened by a transmission from her mother, wondering exactly why it was taking her so long to pack the few things she'd left at Varykino the last time she'd been there. They had departed that afternoon, having granted Padmé a few hours to actually pack, and were now strolling through the suburbs of Theed, the droids R2-D2 and C-3PO following behind.

Padmé was reflecting on the fact that in the past few weeks she had survived two assassination attempts, one near-execution, and one full-scale battle, and yet none of that mattered, because her mother would kill her if she found out that she had been involved in any of these things. Mom and Dad were always telling her to be more careful, stop putting herself in danger—in truth, they would have preferred that she retire from active political life altogether. To keep them from worrying, she downplayed the risk and made light of serious situations. In a small way, she was able to protect them. But it was unimaginable to her that she not let her family know about her marriage, the one good thing that had come from all of this, and Anakin had agreed. They had reached an arrangement wherein he would tell his step-family on Tatooine, and she would tell the Naberries. No one else could know. No one. This, along with the knowledge that they would be parted all too soon by war, hovered like a cloud over their otherwise perfect happiness. Sometimes moments of somber silence set in, and over and over they drove the sadness away with levity and kisses.

"It amazes me," Anakin said now, "that someone who claims to hate lying as much as you do would reinvent the truth like this for your parents."

"I'm only _concealing_ the truth of certain events," Padmé corrected him. "That's not lying." He eyed her doubtfully. "Besides, I'm a politician. The fact that I don't like lying doesn't mean I'm not good at it."

He laughed. "Oh, _now_ I see. Just wait till I give that information to Master Obi-Wan."

"It was information given in the strictest confidence," she told him, shaking her head. "I'm afraid it cannot be released to the public."

Smiling together, they reached the walkway leading up to the Naberrie house and paused.

"Everybody ready?" Padmé asked.

Artoo beeped cheerfully, and Threepio said, "I am fully operational Miss Padmé, and sufficiently prepared for any eventuality. Provided violence is not involved, of course."

Anakin just nodded. "Let's go."

The minute they rounded the garden wall and came in sight of the house, two small, giggling figures burst out the door and catapulted themselves into Padmé's open arms.

"Aunt Padmé! Aunt Padmé!" the little girls shouted.

"Ryoo! Pooja!" Padmé held her nieces at arm's length. "Did you miss me?"

"Yeah!" they both answered.

"I got a new dress because I got a hole in one," Pooja declared, before racing forward and wrapping her arms around Anakin's legs. "Hi, Anakin!"

"Hi, Pooja." The Jedi looked down at the four-year-old, surprised. She'd been shy around him the last time he'd been here.

Padmé grinned. "Once Pooja's met you, you're her new best friend," she explained.

"I don't make friends with strangers," Pooja supplied. "I got a new dress, Anakin."

"Oh." Anakin nodded. "Good. It's pretty."

"Artoo! Artoo!" Pooja began to run circles around the little astromech, who whistled joyfully in response.

Ryoo tugged at Padmé's skirt.

"Aunt Padmé, ama tu sur?"

"Ka, pami?" Padmé asked the girl.

"Mamimé fethyd, do tu ama sur." _My mommy said that you love him_. Padmé rolled her eyes.

"What's she saying?" Anakin was looking at them curiously.

"She's starting to learn Nubaé, our old language. She's practicing." In Ryoo's ear, she whispered, "Your mommy likes to talk too much." The girl giggled. "Ryoo, are you going to say hi to Anakin?"

"Hi, Anakin," Ryoo said shyly.

Behind them, Pooja had noticed Threepio. "What's that?" she asked, pointing.

"That's my droid, C-3PO," Anakin answered. "Threepio, this is Pooja and Ryoo."

"A pleasure to meet you both," the droid said, causing the girls to dissolve into renewed fits of giggles. Ryoo joined her sister in chasing the droids up the front walk, and Anakin and Padmé followed. Sola met them at the door and embraced Padmé tightly. She was glad that the wounds on her back from the nexu had healed enough that the hug only caused her to wince, an effect that went unnoticed.

Sola was just saying, "Welcome back, Anakin," when Pooja tapped Anakin's leg and pointed.

"What happened to your hand?"

"Pooja, don't—" Padmé started to say, but Anakin flashed her a look that said it was all right and knelt down beside the girls.

"A bad man cut it off," he told them. Ryoo's eyes went wide with horror, but Pooja only appeared curious.

"Why?"

"Because…" Anakin glanced up at Padmé, who shrugged. "He… doesn't like Jedi."

"Why?"

Anakin thought about this. _Because he's a Sith lord_ would mean nothing to them, nor would _Because he's the leader of the Separatists_. These explanations did not really answer the question in any case. "I don't know," he admitted finally.

"Did it get cut off when you were protecting Aunt Padmé?" Ryoo asked softly.

Padmé was quick to cut in, saying, "He was protecting lots of people."

"But they gave me this new arm that works just like the old one," Anakin told them. "It just looks a little scary, but it won't hurt you. Do you want to touch it?"

Pooja immediately ran her tiny hands over the long metal fingers, and Ryoo did too once her mother nudged her forward. The six-year-old seemed to be more interested in exactly how the appendage worked than Pooja, who just liked the feel and the look of the metal.

"Gently," Sola warned.

Ryoo looked at Anakin with solemn brown eyes that reminded him of Padmé's. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"It did at first, but not as much anymore."

"Did they catch the bad man and put him in jail?"

"Not yet," the Jedi told her. "But they will."

"Come inside," Sola instructed. "Everybody. I have food that might be burning."

The little group filed into the Naberrie house, and Sola immediately ran back to the kitchen, calling "Padmé, introduce him to Darred," over her shoulder.

Standing in the living room was a well-built man with light, curly hair and a kind face. "Anakin, this is Sola's husband, Darred Janren."

"He's my daddy!" Pooja called out as she and Ryoo exited with the droids.

"Darred's an architect; he was building in Taseed the last time you were here. Darred," Padmé addressed the man, "this is Jedi padawan Anakin Skywalker… but I'm sure Sola's already told you all about him."

"You know Sola." Darred smiled and extended a hand, which Anakin shook. "Good to meet you in person, Anakin."

Jobal darted out of the kitchen then, first hugging her daughter, then hugging Anakin, then scolding Padmé for taking so long to come home. In a show of motherly affection, she made much of Anakin's arm and offered her condolences for his mother's death so sincerely that he could almost have hugged her again. Then she called to her husband, who came down the stairs, grinning widely. More greetings were exchanged, and Jobal rushed back to the kitchen asking Sola if she had set the timer correctly.

"You're making too much, Mom!" came the voice from the kitchen.

"I'd better go help." Padmé started to follow her mother, but Ruwee stopped her.

"You're supposed to comm Sabé, or I've been told that heads will roll."

Padmé started to reach out to Anakin—to kiss him or touch him, he didn't know—but she stopped herself before Ruwee noticed and, with an apologetic look, hurried upstairs.

Anakin gazed after her in the awkward silence that followed her exit. "Could I help with something?" he asked at last.

Ruwee and Darred exchanged a look. "You can help the same way we're helping," the older man answered. "By staying out of the way."

Sola stuck her head out the door to the kitchen. "Actually, everything's almost ready. Anakin, you can help set the table if you'd like."

"Sure." Anakin nodded and took a dish form Sola's hands. This place was so warm, so loving. It was the way he'd always dreamed his home would be, when he and his mother were both free. The way it never would be, now. He wished he could have brought his mother here. She would have loved these people, this family, just as he did. His family.

The realization swept away almost all of his sadness. Ruwee and Jobal were his wife's parents and so, unlike the last time he'd visited, they were his family. Sola and Darred were his brother- and sister-in-law. He'd never had brothers and sisters before. Or a father, for that matter. The little girls playing outside were his nieces. Anakin suddenly found himself grinning like an idiot. He had a family and he loved them.

The new feeling of love and home only grew stronger when Padmé came back downstairs and started teasing him for not knowing where to set things on the table.

"Some Jedi." She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Do you need to have the poor, defenseless Senator show you how to handle table settings?"

"Defenseless?" Anakin snorted. "Hardly."

"Do you want me to show you or not?"

"If it's not too much trouble, m'lady."

Padmé laughed until she noticed the way Sola and Jobal were looking at them. She cleared her throat and proceeded to show Anakin where the silverware went, careful to keep a professional distance between them. Every time they touched, each would pull back quickly, not noticing that doing so only drew more curious glances from whoever was in the room at the time.

Finally, as Anakin was walking back to the kitchen after setting the plates on the table, a hand reached out and pulled him into an empty room, shutting the door behind him. Padmé let herself fall into his arms, and he kissed her.

"I love you," she sighed into his chest.

"Really? Even though I can't set a table?" She laughed a little, and he stroked her hair. "I hate that we have to do this."

"We knew it would be this way." She kissed him again. "I hate it, too."

"When are we going to tell them?"

"I don't know. I wish it didn't have to be so hard."

"I know." They kissed more deeply this time, losing themselves, forgetting about everything else, until a sound at the door made them jump apart and turn.

Standing in the doorway were two wide-eyed little girls.

"Aunt Padmé?" Ryoo asked. "Why were you kissing the Jedi?"

Anakin and Padmé could only stare, open-mouthed. Ryoo and Pooja stared back.

"Did you know Jedi aren't supposed to kiss people?" the older girl continued. "Mom said so."

To Anakin's amazement, Padmé managed to find her voice. "Yes, Ryoo. We know that. But… we…" Her deceptively calm demeanor faltered.

"Do you love him?" Pooja piped up. "'Cause Mommy said you did."

Padmé looked at Anakin, who looked helplessly back at her. She drew a deep breath.

"Yes," she said simply. "I do."

Ryoo stepped forward and crossed her arms, surveying Anakin with the grave air of a parent meeting the person a child intends to date.

"Do you love our Aunt Padmé, Anakin?" she asked severely.

"Yes," Anakin managed, following his wife's lead. "Very much."

The girls broke into smiles.

"Okay," Ryoo said, and for some reason Anakin breathed a small sigh of relief as she granted her permission.

"Are you going to _marry_ her?" Pooja asked.

He looked to Padmé, who was at a loss again. "Well…" A tense moment of indecision passed, then Padmé smiled. "Maybe."

"But Mom said that is forbidden," Ryoo pointed out. Padmé knelt down beside them.

"That is why this has to be our special secret, and you can't tell anybody you saw us kissing. Okay?"

"Not even Mommy and Daddy?" asked Pooja, her eyes going wide.

"Not for a little while. For right now it will be just us who know. It's _very_ important that you don't tell."

"Wow!" Ryoo grinned and hugged Padmé, proud at being taken into her aunt's confidence. "It's okay, Aunt Padmé. You can count on us."

"We won't tell," Pooja concluded.

The girls left the room, whispering to each other, and Anakin raised an eyebrow at his wife.

"Is there any way that's going to work?"

Padmé sighed. "Not for long." She gave him one more quick kiss before going upstairs to change for dinner.


	2. Sola

Disclaimer: _Star Wars _is the property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I mean no infringement and make no profit.

A/N: Happy Episode III everybody! Eeeee! I'm going tonight; can't wait. Anyway, here is chapter two, and thanks for all the lovely reviews. Thanks again to my beta, Alicia.

_**Chapter Two: Sola**_

Sola Naberrie knew that Anakin Skywalker had feelings for her younger sister. That much had been blatantly obvious to her since the Jedi had first set foot in her parents' house. And Sola had suspected, though she couldn't confirm it, that Padmé had feelings for Anakin, too. She had teased the Senator mercilessly in an effort to elicit a confession, but the best she could come away with was a near certainty that poor Padmé was extremely confused.

Today, though, something was different. The confusion was gone. The way Padmé looked at, spoke to, and acted toward the Jedi gave Sola all the confirmation she needed that her sister was in love. And the conspicuously nervous way the two were acting led Sola to suspect that something had happened. What it was, she had no idea—but something.

That suspicion only grew stronger when, carrying salad bowls out to the table, she passed the door of the laundry room and caught the sound of faint voices.

"I hate that we have to do this." It was a man, and not Ruwee or Darred, so it must have been Anakin. At first Sola thought that he might be sending a transmission back to Coruscant, but then she heard the second voice answer.

"We knew it would be this way." That was Padmé! Sola moved closer to the door. There was a pause, and then she heard her add, "I hate it, too."

"When are we going to tell them?"

"I don't know. I wish it didn't have to be so hard."

Sola's mind was racing. Why had Padmé and Anakin shut themselves in the laundry room together? What secret were they keeping? Sola Naberrie had never been one not to jump to conclusions, and this sounded to her very much like a romantic conversation. She wanted to listen to more, but turning her head she noticed her daughters standing down the hall, looking at her like she was crazy.

Sola nonchalantly walked on and set the salad bowls on the table. When she went back past the laundry room, the door was open and it was empty. Very suspicious indeed.

* * *

Padmé, somewhat flustered by her conversation with Ryoo and Pooja, had gone upstairs to change her clothes before dinner. It was a habit one acquired when dining regularly with dignitaries and diplomats. Now that her nieces knew, it would not take long for the truth about her and Anakin to come out. Well… part of the truth. She had stopped short of letting them be the first to know she'd gotten married. A thermal detonator wouldn't have been able to stop them from running to tell their mother they had a new uncle.

She struggled with the clasps running down the back of her gown as she pondered over what it would mean for Sola to find out before her mother and father. The idea did have some positive implications. She could always say things to Sola that she couldn't tell Ruwee and Jobal and besides, only a few weeks ago Sola had been urging her to find a boyfriend. If she could get Sola on her side, it might be easier…

She finally managed to undo the back of the dress enough to step out of it and lay it on her bed. There was, after all, no avoiding it. She would have to tell all of them very soon.

Her thoughts were disturbed by an alarmed gasp behind her.

"_Padmé!_"

She spun around, grabbing the dress she was about to put on around her, and saw Sola standing in the doorway, her eyes wide and her hand over her mouth. It took Padmé only a fraction of a second to realize why. She was wearing only her undergarments, and Sola had undoubtedly seen the three fresh scars running across her back, clearly exposed.

"Sola!" she shouted, just as startled as her sister had been. "Don't you _knock_?"

"What _happened_?" Undeterred, Sola came closer, attempting to see her back again, but Padmé stayed facing her.

"Nothing. It's not as bad as it looks."

"Let me see!"

"Quiet!" Padmé shut the door. "They're just scratches."

Sola lowered her voice. "What scratched you? A knife? Was some assassin trying to…" She sat down hard on the bed, unable to complete the thought.

"No," Padmé assured her, seeing how genuinely shaken Sola was. "Nothing like that." She paused. "Promise not to tell Mom and Dad?"

Sola sighed in relief. Despite herself, a little smile played across her face. "Have I ever told on you yet?"

"It was a nexu," she confessed, "on Geonosis."

"It was a _what_?"

Padmé considered her next words carefully. "I told you that I went to Geonosis to engage in negotiation." Sola nodded. "Well, the negotiations got a little… aggressive."

"How aggressive?" her sister asked flatly.

"They wanted to execute us."

Sola was already drawing connections. "You were in that battle, weren't you." It wasn't a question. She knew her sister too well for that.

Padmé explained about the arena and how the battle of Geonosis had broken out around them, and though she tried to minimize the danger and the horror, at the end of it Sola was shaking her head in a slightly dazed way.

"If I didn't know you, Sis, I would swear that no one could possibly get into so much trouble with such good intentions."

"You understand why I can't let Mom and Dad find out. They worry enough as it is."

"I know." Sola took one more look at the scars as Padmé stood to pull her dress on and shuddered. "_Please_ don't do something like that again, Padmé."

"Don't worry." Padmé answered dismissively. "There's not much chance I'll meet another nexu."

Sola rolled her eyes. "There's nothing else you want to tell me while I'm here, is there? You haven't decided to launch an invasion of Cato Neimoidia or give up the Senate to dance on tables in the shadier districts of Coruscant?"

She saw Padmé hesitate. "There is something…"

"Well, if it's the invasion or the table-dancing, I can't help you." Padmé turned to her, annoyed, about to scold her for not taking her seriously. "But," Sola concluded, "if it's about Anakin…"

Padmé didn't bother to deny it. "You told your kids I'm in love with him."

"Well, are you?"

Sola had expected something like, "That's beside the point!" or "You're impossible!" She was wholly unprepared for Padmé's response.

"He's so passionate, so handsome and kind… I… He loves me so much, Sola. And… yes. I love him. I do." She smiled glowingly.

It took a moment for Sola to digest this. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Padmé so full of warmth and so enthusiastic about something that wasn't a piece of legislation. Once it sunk in, she pulled her sister into a tight hug.

"I knew it! Oh, I'm so happy for you, Sis! What changed your mind?"

"Anakin." She even spoke his name lovingly. "He wouldn't let me be sensible."

"Does he know? Did you tell him?"

"Yes, he knows. We talked about it a long time. We--"

"What have you done about it?"

"What?" Padmé frowned, confused.

"Have you kissed him?"

"Well, yes…"

Sola raised an eyebrow and lowered her voice. "Have you slept with him?"

"Sola!" Padmé was not exactly scandalized by the question, just surprised that Sola was asking her such a thing.

"Well, have you?"

Padmé drew a steadying breath. "We got married, Sola," she said simply.

The moment the words registered Sola turned sharply to her sister and saw the look of complete seriousness on her face. It was true. For perhaps the first time in her life, she could think of absolutely nothing to say. The words would not come.

"_Married?_" she gasped finally. Padmé nodded. "When?"

"Three days ago. In the Lake Country." She was smiling.

"But Padmé…" Sola could not think of a response that wouldn't sound slightly stupid. "He's a _Jedi_. Jedi aren't allowed--"

"We know. We're breaking the Code. It'll have to be a secret, there isn't any other way."

"_Not breaking the Code_ must have been an option at some point," Sola retorted. "What in the galaxy possessed you to do this? You're the sensible one!"

The smile had vanished from Padmé's face. "Why are you being like this? Last week you _wanted_ me to get involved with Anakin, Jedi or not!"

"But not _marry_ him, Sis! I wanted you to have a little fun for once!"

Padmé looked at her incredulously. "You wanted me to have a fling with a Jedi padawan?"

"I thought it might open you up to _real_ relationships that could _work_. Anakin is a Jedi and you've known him for less than two weeks!"

"And it feels like I've known him my whole life," Padmé replied. "You've been in love, haven't you?"

"Not this fast. Darred and I were together for more than a year before we were married. This is a _life_ commitment, do you understand that?"

"Of course I do."

"Does Anakin?"

"Believe me," Padmé said emphatically, "this was not a decision we made lightly."

"Padmé." Sola put on the patronizing voice of the big sister. "You may be very talented and experienced in some areas, but you're young, and you've never really had a boyfriend--"

"Sola, stop it." Her tone brooked no argument. "Listen to me. Anakin sees me, really sees who I am. Even after this short time, he knows me almost better than I know myself. And yet, for some reason, he really loves me." Her smile was beginning to return, as though she could not hold it back. "I've _never_ felt like this before. So who's to say this isn't right? I know it isn't very likely, and I know it sounds crazy, but can't you even consider the possibility that Anakin might be the person I'm supposed to marry?" She sighed. "I love him, Sola. And I don't understand it any more than you do."

Sola looked into Padmé's eyes and was amazed at the well of emotion she found there. She began to understand.

"You never did do things the easy way, did you. Always had to make a big impression." She sighed. "But living in secret, hiding… Are you sure that's what you want?"

"I want Anakin," Padmé replied without hesitation. "And if that means we have to undergo some suffering, so be it."

Finally Sola felt herself start to smile, and yet tears had come to her eyes. "Then, Sis, I think you just might really love him."

Padmé laughed a little. "It doesn't make any sense."

"I know." Sola wrapped her in a gentle embrace. "Isn't it great?" Padmé could only nod.

"I assume you haven't told our parents?"

"No," Padmé admitted. "Not yet. But Ryoo and Pooja know."

Sola gave Padmé a bemused look, about to respond, but was interrupted by a knock at the door and Anakin's voice calling, "I'm supposed to ask what's taking you two so long."

Sola flung the door open and hugged the startled padawan. He looked to his wife, sitting on the bed laughing and wiping tears from her eyes, and made a deduction.

"You told her?"

"She told me, _brother-in-law_." Sola stepped back, grinning, and turned back to Padmé. "I can't believe you got married without me."

"Artoo took pictures," she volunteered.

"Well, thank goodness for Artoo. When exactly are we planning on gracing Mom and Dad with this information?"

"When the time's right," Padmé told her. "Tonight, I hope. Come on, we'd better not keep them waiting."

As Padmé brushed by Anakin, he bent down to murmur in her ear. "One down."

"And two to go," she whispered back.

Anakin began to follow Padmé down the hallway, but Sola pulled him to one side.

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are?" she asked him.

He nodded sincerely. "Yes."

"Good. Because on this world, the woman you just married is _beloved_. If you were to hurt her, you would be hard-pressed to find a single person on Naboo who would not jump at the chance to make you suffer for it. And most of them don't even know her. I _do_ know her. She's my baby sister, and the only two people who love her more than I do are waiting downstairs. Understand?"

Anakin felt like he'd fallen into a nest of Gundarks all over again, so unexpected were Sola's words. Still, it only took him a moment to recover from his surprise enough to say, "I understand. But you don't need to worry."

Sola sighed. "I think I might even believe you when you say that." She held the padawan's gaze. "Just take good care of her, Anakin. She doesn't like admitting that she needs people to take care of her."

Here Anakin was on much firmer ground. "Oh, I know," he agreed wholeheartedly. Sola's serious countenance broke as she laughed and continued into the dining room as though nothing had happened.


	3. Not Yet

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I updated! First school owned my life, and then writer's block… or at least editor's block… set in. In this chapter I had to draw out the awkward just a bit more, but I promise the next chapter is when they will tell Ruwee and Jobal, so stay tuned. And since it's been so long, I'm going to take a moment to respond to some of your lovely comments.  
Everybody: Thank you! You're all so nice! I've never gotten so many comments so quickly! You rock!  
Kazzy: Since you 'most always respond when I comment to you, I'll go ahead and say I'm honored that you like my little fic! Don't worry, I'm sure everything will turn out all right for the Naberries and Skywalkers… in this story, anyway. Anyway, your comment made me laugh and directly inspired one of Pooja's lines when I was stuck on what should happen here, so many thanks.  
Roguester: Aw, _I'm_ honored that this was the first Star Wars fanfic you read! Glad you like it!  
Emerald Green Queen: For my future writing plans, see my profile.  
Serabiwarrior88: Hehe, and I don't have a sister at all! Guess it's the fantasy of the ideal relationship kicking in. ;)  
hellohello: Yes, I am going to finish this, and your review actually motivated me to hurry up with the painful process of editing.  
tigger 889: Find out in the next chapter! And you hold down the Alt key and press 0233. Took me forever to figure that out, too.  
Finally, thanks to Alicia for reading her email so frequently. Now, on to the chapter!

_**Chapter Three: Not Yet**_

The first things Padmé saw upon entering the dining room were the innocent, smiling faces of Ryoo and Pooja. She was already on edge; this did nothing to relax her. There was no way, she realized, that she could have this conversation with her nieces sitting across from her. The topic could easily become too adult. Yet if she did not speak up now the issue immediately became even more complicated. It would be hard enough to act like nothing was out of the ordinary while seated immediately next to Anakin at a table where the conversation would inevitably revolve around the time she and Anakin had recently spent together, but she would now have to do this knowing that at any moment either of her nieces, being only little girls, could break the news for her. She doubted Ruwee and Jobal would be amused at such a turn of events.

There was more than enough food for the eight people seated at the table, and Jobal seemed immensely pleased that Anakin wasted no time in stating that it was delicious. Padmé smiled at him encouragingly. She didn't know if the compliment was intended solely to make her mother like him more, but it certainly did not hurt.

Pooja, in turn, wasted no time in declaring, "Anakin's arm is scary 'cause it got cut off." The adults chuckled. Padmé sighed, grateful that that was the first thing Pooja had chosen to blurt out.

"Did it happen in the battle?" Ruwee inquired.

"Yes. My Master and I were dueling Count Dooku."

Darred stared. "Your arm was severed by the leader of the Separatists?" Anakin nodded. Padmé could see that he was slightly uncomfortable at the line of questioning, but they both knew that was better, or at least safer, than discussing anything that had happened after the duel with Dooku. There was one person at the table, however, who was even more uncomfortable with the topic than Anakin.

"Now, this is hardly proper dinner table conversation, is it?" Jobal cut in quickly. "I don't want to hear any more about that horrible battle, or the war, or Count Dooku, or the Separatists. We've all heard quite enough already."

"I'm sorry," Anakin apologized, abashed.

"Don't worry about it, Anakin." She broke the tension with a bright smile. "Tell us what the two of you did while you were in the Lake Country."

Padmé and Anakin exchanged nervous glances. Out of the corner of her eye, Padmé could see Sola trying to stifle her amusement.

"Um… Not much, Mom," Padmé answered.

"Did you have to stay in the house?" Ruwee asked, oblivious to his daughter's discomfort. "That region is beautiful this time of year."

"We… had a picnic," Anakin offered.

"Well, that's nice," said Jobal. Sola was laughing into her napkin, and Padmé tried to glare at her without the others noticing.

Ryoo piped up. "Did you see the shaaks?"

"Yes." Anakin's mischievous smile appeared. "Actually, I _rode_ one of the shaaks."

The girls gasped. "You did not!" Pooja uttered defiantly.

Ryoo appealed to a higher authority. "Did he, Aunt Padmé?"

"He did," Padmé confirmed. "And almost broke his neck in the process."

The padawan raised his eyebrows. "That didn't stop you from joining me on the ride back."

Padmé shot Anakin a look of utter disbelief, which was met only with a playful shrug.

Ryoo and Pooja squealed in delight, bouncing up and down in their seats.

"Daddy, can we ride the shaaks?" Pooja asked.

"No."

Ryoo pouted. "Not even with Anakin?"

"No," Sola and Darred unanimously declared.

"Forget the shaaks," Anakin told them, and winked. "Someday I'll get you riding a fambaa." Padmé laughed.

Jobal eyed her daughter with a knowing smile. "It sounds like you had fun."

"We did." Under the table, out of sight, Padmé put her hand on Anakin's, forgetting, for a moment, that they had anything to hide. "We had a lot of time to talk, to get to know one another again." She nearly told them, then and there. It would have been so easy; she had, after all, been only overreacting. But her father spoke up before she could put her thoughts into words.

"In speaking of talk," Ruwee put in, "what was it that Sabé had to tell you about the minute you got back?"

The smile vanished from Padmé's face. "Cordé and Versé's memorial services. I hadn't even left Coruscant yet when…" She shook her head. "I should have been there. I should have found a way to go."

"It wasn't safe," Ruwee told her. "You know that. If you'd come out in public that way, you would have been a clear target for your attacker."

"They died for me," Padmé persisted. "I should have gone. I owe them that at least. I should do something." She sighed. "I need to visit their families."

"Enough." The sharpness of Jobal's voice startled her daughter, and everyone at the table, into silence. It was Ryoo, finally, who cheerfully broke the awkward moment.

"Anakin has a funny droid." Pooja giggled her agreement.

"Oh, is it that protocol droid who's following Artoo everywhere?" Darred picked up the conversation.

"Yes, that's Threepio," Anakin answered. "And actually, he's not mine. He's Padmé's now."

"Really?" Sola prompted him to continue.

"Yes, I built him when I was a boy on Tatooine, but Jedi aren't allowed possessions. So, when my mother's family gave him back to me, I asked Padmé if she'd like to have a new friend around. A Senator would probably have more use for a protocol droid than a Jedi anyway. I gave him to her…" He nearly said, _the day of the wedding_. "A few days ago. Before we went back to the Lake Country."

"That was nice of you," Jobal smiled.

"Anakin loves Aunt Padmé!" Pooja suddenly exclaimed. Anakin and Padmé's heads snapped in her direction, while Sola nearly choked on a mouthful of food.

"Don't be silly, Pooja," Jobal said, frowning. "Anakin is a Jedi padawan learner."

"But he does!" the girl insisted.

Ruwee's mouth twitched in amusement as he asked, "What makes you think that, Pooja?"

"Because he said so!"

Anakin looked like a rug had been pulled out from under him. He turned to Padmé, who was equally frozen, and then to Ruwee and Jobal, opening and closing his mouth in wordless desperation.

"Pooja…" Darred said.

"But I saw them kissing in the laundry room and she said that maybe she was going to _marry_ him!"

A tense moment passed; nobody seemed quite sure what to make of this. Padmé and Anakin relaxed slightly, however, as Ruwee started to chuckle to himself, shaking his head at Pooja. Jobal seemed about to speak again when she caught Padmé's expression. Her look of exasperation with her granddaughter faded into acute uncertainty.

Fortunately, Sola jumped in. "Pooja, what have we told you about making up lies about people?" she asked the little girl in such a solemn tone that Padmé could barely keep from smiling.

"But we saw them! Didn't we, Ryoo?"

But the older girl was frowning very pointedly at her sister. "No, we _didn't_. _Remember?_"

Pooja's eyebrows knit in confusion for just a moment, until she looked up at Padmé and seemed to remember. Her face instantly brightened and she smiled widely at her aunt. "Oh! She's right, we didn't. Nevermind."

Padmé focused very hard on her plate because she knew that if she so much as ventured a glance at Anakin they would both burst out laughing, partly from sheer relief. By the time she could look up, Sola was already standing and clearing the table, and Padmé joined her. She was not at all surprised when Sola cornered her in the kitchen a few seconds later.

"You can't tell them in front of Ryoo and Pooja," Sola said. No doubt Padmé's concerns had also occurred to her sister.

"I know," Padmé assured her. "Why did you think I didn't say anything at dinner?" She smiled. "Especially when your daughter gave me such a perfect opening."

"They caught you kissing?" Sola rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. Very smooth. That is going to take a lot of explaining back at my house."

"It wasn't exactly the most comfortable moment of my life, either. But you see why I have to say something soon."

"I'm taking the kids home. You can do it as soon as we're gone."

Padmé shook her head frantically. "I need you here. You're our moral support."

"Oh, all right." Sola gave an exasperated sigh. "I can tell Mom I'm coming over early to help with breakfast. At breakfast, you and Anakin can make your announcement. Not just can—_will_."

"Thank you." Padmé beamed with gratitude, but Sola only rolled her eyes again.

"You owe me, little sister."

And so that evening Anakin and Padmé Skywalker prepared to spend their first night apart since they'd been married. Padmé had known this would happen eventually, although she'd assumed that when it did, her husband would be on some distant planet serving the Republic and not downstairs in her parents' guest room. For a long time she stared into the darkness, trying to sleep. She called to mind all of the most boring committee meetings and Senate procedures she could remember, but remained just as awake as ever. Her thoughts kept straying back to Anakin. She missed him.

_This is ridiculous_, she thought. _He's just downstairs!_

But the feeling remained. She missed the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body next to hers, his touch, his kisses…

Perhaps if she could just see him, only for a minute…

The thought had barely materialized in her mind before she was out of bed and as quietly as possible making her way down the stairs. Although she made no sound, Anakin looked up as he sensed her approach. He was not in the guest bedroom, but sitting on the couch, his posture betraying a restlessness that matched hers.

"Couldn't sleep, either?" he asked.

"Maybe I just didn't want to spend the fourth night of my honeymoon without even a goodnight kiss."

In answer he kissed her with a gentle passion.

"Goodnight," she whispered breathlessly when they parted.

"Goodnight." He kissed her again.

"I'm sorry you have to sleep down here. And I'm sorry things were so awkward today."

"It was… interesting," he admitted. " Don't be sorry. It was much more eventful than your average wedding announcement."

"Ani," she said, surprised, "I think you may have acquired some of that Jedi patience after all."

"I'd have had to." He pulled her close to him. "I finally got you to marry me, didn't I?"

They kissed once more.

"I ought to go back…" she murmured.

His voice was a whisper in the dark.

"Stay a little while."


	4. In the Daylight

A/N: Thanks once _again_ for all your kind reviews! Every single one always makes my day! This is the chapter you've been waiting for, with two more to go after this. Thanks to Evie for bugging me about updating and to Alicia for being an awesome beta.

_**Chapter Four: In the Daylight**_

Sola arrived back at her parents' house early the next morning. The sun was just beginning to shine on the city of Theed and the only sounds to be heard were birds chirping and the muffled sounds of people preparing breakfast within their own houses. Jobal answered the door almost immediately with a very strange look on her face, motioned for quiet and beckoned her daughter inside. Curious, Sola followed her mother into the living room, and at once she understood.

Anakin was asleep on the couch, which was unexpected only in that he should have been in the guest room. What was entirely unexpected was that his arms were wrapped around Padmé, who was curled up sleeping peacefully beside him. _Well,_ Sola thought _I honestly wouldn't have thought they could be this stupid_. She turned to Jobal, who was staring down at her younger daughter and the Jedi with her arms crossed, perplexed.

"What do you think this means?" she asked anxiously. Sola shrugged in what she hoped was a noncommittal way. She was relieved to note that at the very least the couple were appropriately clothed. Padmé was wearing a nightgown, and Anakin had his pants on. Jobal really didn't seem to know what to make of it. "Do you think she was afraid to sleep alone?"

"Or she just didn't want to," Sola responded wryly, unconsciously replicating her mother's posture in studying the two sleeping forms.

Jobal frowned. "Oh, you don't really think…" She caught Sola's eye. "You know something, don't you."

"Shhh," Sola whispered, for Padmé had begun to stir, and in a moment she opened her eyes. Jobal and Sola watched as her expression changed from vague confusion to absolute panic. She sat up abruptly, waking Anakin, who promptly executed a similar performance, clutching the blanket up around him and blushing fiercely just as the young woman beside him went very pale.

"Good morning, Mom," Padmé offered weakly.

"Good morning, dear. Anakin." Jobal clearly did not know what else to say. Sola gently took her arm and pulled her in the direction of the kitchen.

"Come on, Mom, let's go make breakfast while Anakin and Padmé change their clothes."

"Good idea, Sola. Thanks." Padmé supplied gratefully.

"But…" Jobal started.

"They'll explain at breakfast, Mom," Sola assured her as the kitchen door closed behind them.

Anakin and Padmé looked at one another.

"This is bad," the padawan observed. Padmé could only nod. "We could go out the window," he offered. Though she knew he said it in jest, the idea was strangely tempting.

Some fifteen minutes later the two descended the stairs together and, with Jobal and Sola, sat at the table in awkward silence. Jobal kept glancing from Padmé to Anakin to Sola and back again. Her older daughter was nibbling the fruit in front of her. Anakin was moving the fork around his plate with the Force. Padmé was staring at her hands folded on her lap. Not a word was spoken until Ruwee appeared and noticed the tense atmosphere.

"What is it?" he asked, bewildered.

"Padmé and Anakin have something to tell us." Jobal's voice was strained, and Ruwee did not fail to notice.

"What's happened?" he asked immediately, bracing himself.

Padmé looked up at him. "Nothing's _happened_, Dad. I'm not in any danger."

Ruwee's eyes went to Anakin.

"She isn't," he confirmed.

"Well, then, what is it?" Ruwee sat down at the table, his worried expression replaced by a curious one.

"Mom, Dad, you see…" Padmé began, stopped, and started again. "Anakin and I…" _This is just silly_, she thought. _You are a member of the Galactic Senate! You were a Queen! You've faced down some of the most ruthless politicians in the galaxy. You've fought in two battles. These are only your _parents Spurred on by this, she managed, "We… um…"

"I care about your daughter," Anakin cut in. "A very great deal." He cleared his throat. "I love her. And on our way back to Naboo a few days ago, I asked her to marry me."

The silence was absolute. Simultaneously, Ruwee and Jobal turned their stunned faces from Anakin to Padmé, who quickly found her voice.

"I said yes," she told them quietly. "I love him, too. We were married four days ago at Varykino."

Ruwee and Jobal looked from Padmé to each other, then back to their daughter, without saying a word. Their faces were frozen in expressions of blank surprise, as though the act of simply absorbing Padmé's last sentence prevented them from manifesting any clear emotional reaction.

Finally, Jobal spoke. "Are you being serious?" she asked, unknowingly echoing the very words her daughter had used upon Anakin's proposal.

"Yes, Mom." Padmé's voice was low and calm. "I know it seems very sudden…"

"But Padmé, he's a Jedi!"

"I know," was all Padmé could think to say.

"Who would perform a marriage between a Senator and a Jedi?" Jobal demanded. Her voice held more disbelief than anger; she seemed unwilling to accept that such a thing could really have been allowed to happen.

"Thadasu Kinalu."

Padmé's words brought her up short; the man she referred to was an old friend. Jobal knew him too well to truthfully accuse him of insanity, or even irresponsibility. Instead, she nodded to Anakin.

"Is he going to leave the Jedi Order?"

"No," Padmé answered sharply, for the first time abandoning her calm demeanor. She seemed to be speaking more to Anakin than to Jobal; evidently they'd had this discussion at least once before. "Not yet, at least. Not while they need him in the war. We're going to keep it hidden."

"But I promise you," Anakin said, "that if I had to make the choice, I would choose Padmé."

Jobal took a moment to steady herself. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since the battle," Padmé replied. She was relieved at least that, while Jobal was upset, she seemed more concerned than enraged.

"But that's so fast!"

It was Anakin who spoke again. "I'll have to leave soon. The war…"

"Padmé," Jobal sighed wearily. "This is not like you. Why didn't you tell us?"

"We couldn't. We couldn't attract any attention at all," she explained.

"It makes sense, Mom," Sola put in. "At least they were discreet."

But now Jobal wheeled on her older daughter. "You _knew_ about this and didn't say anything?"

Sola shook her head. "I only found out last night. They were afraid you might react… badly." She very carefully did _not_ add _Something like the way you are reacting right now._

Jobal turned back to Padmé, and the hurt and confusion in her eyes made the Senator wince. "We're your _family_!"

"I know, Mom," Padmé replied helplessly.

"I just don't understand how you could do something like this."

"Neither do I." Ruwee, who had been sitting as if made from stone, at last stirred. He shook his head, dumbfounded. "How could you have been so foolish?"

"Dad!" Padmé exclaimed, surprised.

"You have so much talent, so much intelligence. We taught you to have more of a sense of responsibility. I didn't raise you to make stupid decisions like this, Padmé." His tone held anger without malice, and a great deal of sadness. "You are a _Senator_. He is a _Jedi_. And you are both jeopardizing your future careers with this… relationship. I will _not_ stand by and watch you throw everything away for a Jedi padawan who has taken advantage of his position!"

"Just a minute!" Anakin interjected, but Ruwee ignored him, not taking his eyes from his daughter.

"Don't you take enough risks, Padmé? Haven't you put yourself—and all of us—through enough?"

"Dad…" Sola uttered in alarm. But now Padmé's eyes were flashing in anger. When she spoke it was in the voice typically reserved for addressing the Senate.

"I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions, Dad—_more_ than capable, according to the people I've been serving for the past twelve years. I'm not changing my mind about this, it isn't some spontaneous whim or a breakdown caused by too much stress or anything else. I love Anakin."

"Maybe you _think_ you do," Ruwee conceded. "But I had assumed you would know better. You should _certainly_ know better than to do something like this. You were not brought up to be some silly girl who falls for the advances of--"

"Hold on," Anakin interrupted, easily as angry as Padmé was. "Stop it. I love your daughter and we are both adults."

"Yes, Dad." Padmé's voice was just above a whisper. "Stop it."

Without another word she stood and walked from the room and up the stairs, Anakin at her side.

"Dad--" Sola started again to say, but Ruwee, too, got up and retreated into the garden. After a moment, Jobal went back to the kitchen, leaving Sola to answer the knock that sounded at the door.

It was Darred, with Ryoo and Pooja in tow.

"What's going on?" he asked, noting the distressed expression on his wife's face.

Sola sighed. "My little sister's gone and married a Jedi." Darred raised an eyebrow.

There was a small gasp from somewhere in the region of the man's knees. "Aunt Padmé did something that's against the _rules_?" Ryoo asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Pooja tugged at Sola's skirt. "Is Anakin our uncle?"

"Yes, he is."

The little girl thought about this a moment, then smiled and asked, "Do we still get to have breakfast?"


	5. Give It Time

A/N: Wow. I'm so, so sorry it's been so long since I updated. But, you see, I was forced to get a job, and they make me work all the time. That's almost over now, though, and I'm back on track. You definitely won't have to wait so long for the next chapter. That said, I think I had a record number of reviews in a 24-hour period last time! I literally opened my email and went, "GAH!" I'm incredibly flattered. And now, I respond to some of those reviews:

Everybody: Thank you very much! Your reaction to the whole confrontation (and to the cuteness of Pooja and Ryoo) is wonderful. As to whether matters will improve, I suppose we shall see!

eridani: Funny you should say that, because I was wondering myself exactly where Ryoo and Pooja came from. I don't have a lot of contact with people who are that little. They seem to have come about all on their own, save for one evening of fun with the five-year-old son of two of my professors.

MarshaMarshaMarsha: Basically, I figured that Padmé could either tell her parents or never visit them with Anakin again. The second option would make everybody sad, and besides, it seems that there was a small circle of people who knew about the marriage. Given how close Padmé is to her family, it's likely they'd be included.

disasterstrikesagain and MagicalSpirit: I saved both of your comments in my email inbox to make me feel guilty every time I got online so that I would follow your instructions and update. For your gentle prodding, I cannot thank you enough.

In case you weren't aware, my beta Alicia is the best ever.

**Chapter Five: Give It Time**

"We'll go back to Varykino," Padmé said firmly, opening the trunks that crowded her bedroom. "Tonight."

She was practically trembling with anger, Anakin could see, her outrage masking a deeper hurt and confusion. Secretly, Anakin enjoyed it when his wife was truly, righteously angry. She bristled with life and energy, her eyes flashed lightning, she was a being both dangerous and beautiful. It was amazing how the presence of this petite woman could fill any space, however large, when she was angry. Now, though, her eyes held clouds without lightning. Though she steamed back and forth across the room slamming luggage about, she gave the impression of a lost little girl. He didn't know what to do when she was like this. He wanted to fix everything for her, but he didn't know how, so he reached out and took her in his arms.

Padmé let him hold her, all of her bravado fading away as she laid her head on his chest. "My father has never been like that before. He's always supported me. I don't understand this."

"He's just upset," Anakin reasoned, trying to sound more sure than he felt. "He'll get over it soon. In the meantime, we'll stay right here. You don't want to fight with your family."

She pulled away from his embrace. "Actually, Ani, right now that is _exactly_ what I want. They insulted me and they insulted _you_."

He shook his head. "They didn't mean it. They love you. You love _them_."

"I love _you_." She hardly knew how to express it to him—such a short time ago, her family's thoughts and feelings had meant more to her than anything. But when she had taken Anakin Skywalker's hand in marriage, everything had changed. Now it was all for him, _his_ thoughts and feelings. "If they can't accept you," she told him, "I don't want to be here."

He kissed her softly. "Let's just stay a little while. Give everybody time to calm down. You'll probably regret it if you don't."

Reluctantly, Padmé agreed. For a time she and Anakin stayed in the room together, but in the early afternoon they were unexpectedly interrupted by Threepio.

"I was instructed by Miss Pooja that she and Artoo and I were to hide—someplace on this property, I believe—and that after a certain amount of time Miss Ryoo would come to look for us. I don't fully understand the purpose of this, Master Anakin, but I will perform the task as requested of me. Only… Miss Padmé, could you indicate the location of a proper hiding place?"

Padmé smiled in spite of herself. "The next room, Threepio."

"Thank you." He paused in the act of exiting the room, nearly tripping over Artoo, who had appeared behind him. "I am given to understand that there his been some sort of disagreement here. Is there anything I might do to help? I am fluent in over six million forms of communication, Miss Padmé, and you would be amazed how much a good translator may--"

Padmé respectfully declined at the same time as Artoo knocked into the protocol droid with an irritated string of beeps; it sounded as though a good translator might interpret them as "shut up."

Anakin turned to her with a lopsided grin. "Well, at least it looks like _they're_ getting along. I'm going to go practice with my lightsaber, out on the lawn." He pulled a glove on over his prosthetic hand. "I have a feeling this thing will take some getting used to."

She couldn't argue. It was early afternoon now, the weather was perfect, and if a little practice on her parents' lawn could help make sure her husband came back to her from the war, Padmé was all for it. She winced slightly at that last thought; they had been trying to ignore the reports and rumors about the inevitable aftermath of Geonosis. But thoughts like this were breaking into their happy dream more and more frequently. For a moment she was almost grateful for this disagreement with her family, if it meant not thinking about the unavoidable, looming shadow of what the Holonet was now calling the Clone Wars.

Forcefully blocking out these dark reflections, she resumed packing, albeit slowly. Often she paused to gaze through the window at her husband, deeply involved in his saber exercises on the lawn. She marveled at the strange beauty of it. He wielded the traditional Jedi weapon with such energy and yet such control, like some young god or hero out of legend, possessing the power to create or destroy. It was like watching an intricate dance.

It was while she was wrapped up in these musings that Jobal came to her door, and hesitated there. She took a few steps into the room. Padmé did not turn her gaze from the window.

"Are you going to want lunch?" the older woman asked.

"I don't know."

Jobal noted the half-packed luggage. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Back to Varykino."

"Oh." Jobal took a few more steps forward. "I'm sorry about… what happened earlier, darling."

Now Padmé did turn, her eyes flashing. "Why can't you just be happy for me—for us?"

Jobal sighed and sat down wearily on the bed. "We just want what's best for you. Just because your child grows up doesn't mean you stop worrying. You'll understand that when you have--" She stopped. It was somehow so easy to say "when you have children of your own" to Padmé when speaking of a hypothetical future, but now that she was married, and to a _Jedi_…

"I love him. I'm not going to leave him, Mom."

"I know," Jobal admitted. "I know better than to argue with you when you've made up your mind." She chuckled. "I learned that when you were five years old. I just wish… we could have been there, when you got married."

Padmé's face softened, and she sat down beside her mother. "I do, too."

"You're just saying that because I'm making you feel guilty."

"Mom, it was my _wedding_!" Padmé exclaimed. "Of course I wanted you all to be there—so much! If I had been marrying anyone else, if it wasn't so vital that this remain secret, you would have been. And if I hadn't been so sure that I love him, I wouldn't have done it. But Mom, I never thought I could feel like this. I thought it was something that only happened in stories, but it feels like… I _had_ to do this, Mom. I just had to." Padmé looked over at Jobal, fully expecting her mother to state that she sounded absolutely crazy, but was surprised to see her smiling.

"I know, dear." Jobal brushed Padmé's hair out of her face and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I know." Then, at her daughter's expression: "Well, don't look so shocked! I have seen the way you and he look at each other, after all."

Padmé gave a small laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

"To the people who know you, it is." Padmé leaned her head on her mother's shoulder with a resigned sigh. "Now," Jobal asked, "are you still planning on leaving us so soon?"

"I don't know. Dad's so upset."

"Oh, don't worry about your father. He's only concerned about you. He'll come around. Give it time."

Padmé remained doubtful. "I've never seen him like that before."

"You know as well as I do that your father is stubborn. He'll cool off soon, and if he doesn't, well… leave him to me. Now," she smiled, "tell me about your wedding."

* * *

A short time later, Jobal found her husband downstairs examining a loose hinge on a closet door and smacked him across the arm. Ruwee turned to her, startled, but before he could say a word Jobal had begun.

"I can't believe how childish you're being, Ruwee. I simply cannot believe it. Your daughter has gotten married and she is asking for your support and how do you behave? You throw a fit!"

"I did not throw a fit!" Ruwee exclaimed.

"And now you're pouting."

"I'm doing nothing of the sort!"

"Please! You're moping around the house looking lost and forlorn because you can't stand to be fighting with Padmé."

"Dear," he tried another tactic, "she has _married _a _Jedi_. How am I supposed to react? Should I have done a dance and shouted it throughout the town? You seem to forget that what she's done is both illegal and dangerous. What would we have done if she'd stolen or committed blackmail or broken some other rule?"

"This is not at all the same thing, Ruwee, and you know it."

He did know. His real worry was more personal. "How can I applaud something like this that is only going to leave her hurt? And it _will_, Jobal."

"I don't think so," she replied. "He seems to truly love her."

Ruwee scoffed. "And I wonder how long that will last."

"I don't know, it seems to have lasted ten years already, according to Padmé."

He stared at her. "You can't love someone without seeing them for a decade. They've been together a matter of _days_. It is impossible to know whether you've found the right person to marry after a few _days_. They're the ones who are behaving like children, infatuated children. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but at the breakfast table you were on my side about this!"

"I was surprised," Jobal admitted, "and hurt that we hadn't been included in their plans, but I've had time to adjust. This is the way things are now, and it's time you realize it." He only shook his head. "Ruwee," she sighed, "don't you remember what it's like to be so madly in love? Don't you remember," she smiled coyly, "the night we met? I knew right away that I wanted to marry you. Something in me just _knew_."

"That was different," Ruwee cut in. "We dated for two years before we got married."

"But we sensed it that first night. And my parents disapproved, because you didn't want to be a farmer…"

"Well, that _was_ uncalled-for. There's nothing wrong with making a name for yourself."

"Of course not, but you had to go out and prove that, and you were away for months. But I thought about you every day."

"All right, yes, and then we got married," he finished impatiently. "I can see what you're trying to do, but it won't work. That was different." He looked askance at her. "You really knew right away, about us? You knew like _that_?"

"Well," Jobal shrugged. "Didn't you?"

"Of course, but I never knew that _you_ did." He paused. "But it was different."

"I've talked to Padmé. It's not so different, Ruwee. You _know_ her. You know she always thinks things through. I don't think she would have taken this kind of risk if she wasn't sure."

"But--"

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Jobal snapped. "Haven't you _seen_ her since she's been home? Haven't you noticed the difference? You can't say you haven't. She's _happy_, Ruwee. For the first time in so long she's really happy. Are you going to take that away from her?"

He deflated a little. "I can't condone this marriage, Jobal."

"She's married whether you condone it or not. You may as well get used to it or you'll both be miserable. She's talking about going back to Varykino—not just talking about it, she's packing!"

"Then let her go," Ruwee responded quietly.

"You don't mean that."

He frowned. "She may still come to her senses."

"I doubt it." Jobal walked from the room, sighing in exasperation. "She's just as stubborn as you are."


	6. An Understanding

**Disclaimer:**_ Star Wars_ is the property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I mean no infringement and make no profit. That goes for all chapters where I may have forgotten the disclaimer, as well.

**A/N:** Okay, let me explain. In brief, I have not updated in so long because 1) the computer on which I had this chapter had some serious issues with saving onto a disk, 2) my family moved and I was busy packing and unpacking, 3) I had to go back to school a week after that, so I was packing again, 4) since back at school, I have been SO INSANELY BUSY THAT IT'S JUST INSANE. That said, this is the last full chapter of Home Again. There is an epilogue to follow, which is already typed and beta'd, and it should be up within a few days. I can't thank everyone enough for all of your wonderful, kind reviews. Thank you!

REV042175: Of course everyone is being stubborn. It's a family trait. ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing so faithfully.

VA-Parky: Pleased to have made you squee.

CanaceErinn: I wouldn't worry about Ruwee. It's a family story—but I suppose you shall see!

anarchy101: I haven't given up yet. I hope you haven't given up on me over this, er, long pause.

disaster-strikes-again: Yeah, having a job _does_ suck. Thanks for the support on this issue.

renegade-452: An update has arrived. Thank you for all of your reviews.

**Chapter Six: An Understanding**

Ruwee managed to avoid lunch, a move he deemed necessary now that his entire family had sided against him in the argument over Padmé's marriage. The rule that no one in the Naberrie house go hungry, however, still stood. Jobal grudgingly brought his food to him in the garage, accused him of pouting again, and left.

Considering the matter as he ate in silence, he conceded that he probably had been too harsh with his daughter. If he was honest with himself, he knew that he probably should have seen something like this coming. Anyone who had done all that Padmé had done in such a short time was bound to go through a similar episode at some point.

He regretted now, as he sometimes did, that Padmé had missed so many ordinary childhood experiences. But then, Padmé had never been an ordinary child. He had taught her everything he knew by the time she was seven, and still she had wanted to know more. He had encouraged her intelligent curiosity, her fervent desire to learn and to help those less fortunate than herself. Ruwee had never pushed her, or pressured her to excel in the way she did. He had only set her loose and watched her fly. Even when Jobal had said that they should rein her in, keep her in classes with people her own age, forbid her from running for office so young, he had refused to hold her brilliance back. She wouldn't have been able to bear it, and neither would he. Padmé had never rebelled as an adolescent, either, unless you counted her break with traditional Naboo pacifism in the matter of the Trade Federation invasion when she was fourteen. So he had somehow never expected her to break down like ordinary people did.

Well, maybe not like _ordinary_ people did. He highly doubted that ordinary people eloped with Jedi when in a state of emotional crisis.

Still, the evidence had been there. He remembered her when she was twelve, newly elected Princess Amidala of Theed, and had visited home for the first time from her quarters in the Palace.

"Dad, we're going to renovate the East Wing of the Parnelli Museum!"

He'd rolled his eyes. "And how much is that going to cost me in taxes?"

"You know you don't care how much money it'll take," she'd laughed. "You love that museum." She grew suddenly serious. "Did you know Naboo is actually one of the few worlds in the Republic which allows…" And they'd spent a half hour in spirited debate over some obscure law or other.

So different from the last time she'd visited before going to Coruscant for the Military Creation Act vote. Somewhere along the way things had changed. Her eyes, which had always conveyed a sense of wisdom beyond her years, were now those of someone who had lived long and seen far too much. "If the Senate votes to create an army, I'm sure the Separatists will see it as an act of aggression rather than defense." She'd sighed wearily. "And I'm not sure they'd be wrong." Her smiles had grown more and more rare until they came only fleetingly, and even then were laced with sadness. The fire which had lit her from within still flamed fiercely when it needed to, but at times it was harder to kindle, and he feared that it was burning itself out. Yes, he should have seen this coming.

And now he was going to fix it. Somehow.

The irony of sneaking into one's own house was not lost on Ruwee as he crept about, hoping to escape notice. He followed the sound of voices to the living room; from the doorway he could see everyone gathered around the droid R2-D2, who was projecting images of some sort onto a table.

"So lovely—the perfect place," Jobal was saying.

Ryoo pointed. "Mommy, look at the pretty flowers."

"This is before the ceremony," Padmé explained from her seat on the couch, Anakin's arm around her.

"Yeah, that's me waiting for Padmé to get ready," the padawan put in. The image before them changed. "And that's me, a few hours later, still waiting for Padmé to get ready."

Padmé laughed. "Anakin!"

"It's all right. I was able to become very good friends with Thadasu Kinalu."

Another gale of Padmé's laughter. "It was _not_ that long. And besides, I think you'll agree the result was worth it."

The next image was of Padmé, and it made Ruwee catch his breath. She was wearing his mother's wedding dress, and she looked beautiful. His little girl.

But the next moment she looked up over Artoo's holoprojection and saw him standing there. Her smile was replaced with an expression of hurt and anger that cut to his heart. He couldn't face her like that. He turned and retreated again to the garden.

In his mind he heard Jobal's words from earlier: _Haven't you seen her since she's been home? Haven't you noticed the difference? She's happy, Ruwee. For the first time in so long…_ She was right, of course. She generally was. There was no way to compare the young woman who only weeks ago had been consumed with the implications of the Military Creation Act to the one who had come up the front walk yesterday with the Jedi at her side. In fact, if he thought about it, the difference had even been apparent when Padmé had first brought Anakin to the house as her bodyguard who was so obviously in love with her. And no sensible words or fatherly concern of his could deny it.

Ruwee's meditations were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him and Anakin's voice calling, "Mr. Naberrie! Wait!" He stopped. So _Anakin_ of all people was going to try to create peace here? The boy had courage, he had to give him that. Well, Ruwee would hear him out. He patiently waited for the padawan to catch up.

"Sir, I'd like to talk to you, if that's all right. I can't make you listen to me, but for your daughter's sake I think you should.

"Well?" Ruwee asked gruffly. The young Jedi was clever enough to realize that for his daughter's sake he'd do anything, but he certainly wasn't going to make this easy for him.

"If you remember, sir, not very long ago, the first time I came here, we walked in the garden just like this. We talked about how the Naboo and the Jedi are similar in the way we give to others, to improve the galaxy… and to protect those we love. You and I both love Padmé. Because you love her, you're afraid I'll hurt her. But the fact that I love her, too, really works out well for both of us because, as a Jedi, I am sworn to protect everyone—but as Padmé's husband, there is _nothing_ I wouldn't do to see that nothing happens to her, ever. To in any way allow harm of any kind to come to her would be simply impossible. She is…" Anakin appeared to be forcefully restraining himself from composing a poem listing Padmé's virtues. He settled on, "She is _everything_. So, you see," he concluded, "you and I should really be on the same side, here. We both want what's best for Padmé." He took a deep breath before plunging on. _You've faced a Sith lord_, he reminded himself, but for some reason Count Dooku's visage was not nearly so fearsome at this moment as Ruwee Naberrie's. "And speaking as someone who wants what's best for Padmé, this situation is not acceptable. She loves you. She loves all of you so much—she lights up just talking about you. Her family means more to her than anything and I can't watch her lose it. And in fact, I don't want to lose it, either. My mother was all I had, and now she's gone. But here, I feel at home. I feel like you're all…" He waved his hands vaguely with the effort of trying to express his feelings. "I would love to be a part of your family, and I know Padmé would love it, too. But I can't be until you accept me. So, please, Mr. Naberrie, give me a chance. For Padmé."

Ruwee didn't answer for a moment. He merely stood and surveyed Anakin critically. The padawan waited.

Finally, Ruwee spoke. "I will," he said. "But I didn't decide this based on the things you said." He noted Anakin's puzzled look. "Oh, you're right, of course, about all of it. But what decided me was just one thing: You made my daughter laugh. It's been a long time since I've heard my daughter laugh."

Slowly, Anakin broke into a smile. Ruwee couldn't help but answer it. This boy would make a good, if unconventional, son-in-law. However…

"Now, I know you say the last thing you want is for Padmé to be hurt, but I feel I should warn you—"

"I know. Sola's already threatened me," Anakin responded as they turned back toward the house.

"Good for Sola. What with?"

"The entire population of Naboo."

"Very good, but what I had in mind was an exceptionally large pair of gardening shears. I trust you wish to keep your remaining limbs?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Ruwee nodded. "Then I believe we understand one another."

Side by side they reached the back door, where Padmé was waiting, looking absolutely furious. She glared at her father.

"What did you say to him?" she demanded. Then, without waiting to hear the answer, "No. Nevermind. We're leaving."

"I agree," Ruwee stated solemnly. "You _should_ leave. But I would ask you to stay one more night."

"Why?" she snapped.

"You denied your family the chance to see you be married. The least you can do is let us give you a wedding celebration."

Anakin could hardly keep from laughing as he watched the words sink in and the anger drain from Padmé's face. Ruwee appeared equally amused as he continued, 'Just us, here, at the house, of course. Although your mother will probably cook enough to feed most of the continent. Then you can go back to Varykino in the morning. It _is _your honeymoon, after all."

Padmé turned to her husband in wonder. "What did you say to him?"

"Not much," Anakin shrugged.

She looked back at Ruwee. "Dad, I… I'm sorry. For everything."

"And I'm sorry, too," he answered. "So sorry, Padmé."

"It's just that before, even with everything I'd done, I wasn't…" she struggled to find the words. "I just wasn't _living_ before."

Ruwee Naberrie took his daughter in his arms. "I know, ami tipasimé," he said softly. "I know, my beloved little girl."


	7. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** _Star Wars_ is the property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I mean no infringement and make no profit.

**A/N:** Here it is, the very end of "Home Again." Before we wrap it up, there are a few messages of thanks I'd like to send out there: to Kelly and my Littler Big for putting up with me while I've been writing this, and listening to me go on ad infinitum about how Padmé is, for example, refusing to go upstairs; to Perry, for reminding what it's like to be five; to Evie, for encouragement and enthusiasm; once more, to Alicia for beta-ing wonderfully; finally, to everyone who has reviewed and listed me in favorites and C2 communities, etc. You guys are the absolute _best_. Please keep it up with this last chapter and in my future endeavors.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, the translation of the Silyara ("star dance," by the way) song is, "Come home, my love/ And come to my center/ At the center is my heart/ And my heart is you/ Come to my home/ Come, my children/ To the place, my home/ My home-- Naboo." Which just goes to show-- Tolkienn, I am not.

Love, thanks, and enjoy the epilogue!

**Epilogue**

The sun had set hours ago. All over Theed, the capital city of Naboo, people were retreating into their houses and winding up the affairs of the day. Businesses were closed and children were put to bed.

In the backyard of the Naberrie house, there was a party going on.

It wasn't the sort of party one would expect to celebrate the wedding of a Senator, especially one as renowned as Padmé Amidala. Only six adults, two children, and two droids attended. Yet for Padmé, dressed only in a simple gown and with her hair falling around her shoulders, it was one of the happiest nights she could remember.

She sat on a garden bench in the cool twilight, finishing the last of the shurra fruit and leaning against her husband's chest. The world of politics and scandal and the Jedi Code was lightyears away. The Clone Wars were only words, without meaning. The nearest conflict was the gentle bickering of Ruwee and Jobal as they returned from clearing away the last of the dishes.

"We'll be living on leftovers for weeks," Ruwee sighed.

"Maybe," replied Jobal, "but at least that will save us from your culinary attempts for a while."

Ruwee leaned close to Anakin. "I hope you realize you're never going to win an argument again."

"I've given up even bothering to argue," the padawan answered.

"All right," Sola announced. "We've talked, we've eaten, and now… it's time for the Silyara."

Ryoo and Pooja cheered, but Padmé protested. "No, Sola, Anakin doesn't know it."

"Doesn't matter," Sola said firmly. "It's tradition."

"What's the… uh…" Anakin attempted to ask.

"Silyara," Padmé supplied. "It's a wedding dance."

"It symbolizes the couple's journey into their new, intertwined lives," Jobal explained. "It's supposed to bring good fortune."

"It's also symbolizes that it's fun to watch people fall down," Darred added. "Especially people who've had too much to drink at weddings. It's not a good wedding until somebody's too bruised to sit."

Anakin laughed. "I'll do it, if you'll show me how."

And so Padmé did. There was a lot of tripping over one another's feet at first, and getting arms and legs hopelessly tangled. The dance consisted chiefly of spinning, changing positions, reversing direction, and spinning again. But Anakin caught on faster than Padmé would have expected, and soon Sola and Darred and Ruwee and Jobal joined in, dancing and singing the words of the traditional song.

"_Alant a nuba, amimé, é alant a carmé…_"

After a few verses, the song began to speed up. Padmé realized too late that nobody had warned her husband about that part. Jobal and Ruwee bowed out, clapping their hands to the rhythm. Ryoo and Pooja, on the other hand, joined in, performing their own version of the dance which consisted of holding hands and spinning around in circles until both fell down laughing, then getting up and beginning again. Even Artoo was twirling in place.

"_A den car sé cormé, é cormé sé tu. Alantaa a nubamé, alantaa, kylamé…_"

Faster and faster they went, until Darred and Sola collapsed in a tangled, laughing heap. Still the music sped up, and Anakin and Padmé danced. Padmé wondered if it was some sort of Jedi skill, how he managed to keep moving so quickly. And if so, it must have been affecting both of them; giggling, moving at a frantic pace, they never faltered.

"_A den kino, nubamé—Nubamé, Naboo._"

Padmé and Anakin knew that they were each thinking the same thing: they were home, they were surrounded by family, and everything was, for once, just as it should be. It was a perfect moment, one they would forever remember. In the hard times to come they would look back on this time of pure, uncomplicated love—the dance, the song, the words.

_Alant a nuba, amimé_.

Come home, my love.

And, in one moment stretched out for an eternity, as they whirled barefoot through the grass, the dance went on.

_**The End**_


End file.
